


For Ravnica!

by ADashOfStarshine (ADashOfInsanity)



Series: Domri Lives AU [2]
Category: Magic the Gathering
Genre: Gen, War of the Spark Domri Lives AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 22:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21084101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADashOfInsanity/pseuds/ADashOfStarshine
Summary: Out of all the places Domri could be right now, riding a giant flaming boar into battle certainly is one of the best. But a moment of introspection threatens to put the fight out of Domri once and for all.Sequel to For Chaos! - written for cowboyaddie on tumblr.





	For Ravnica!

“You look so puny!”

If Lakkie swore at him, or made an obscene gesture, Domri couldn’t tell. The ground below was a sea of tusks and hooves with one lone wolf rider leading the stampede. It was possible Lakkie hadn’t even heard him. The din of hundreds of stomping snorting boars, plus how high up Domri was… Yeah, he probably hadn’t heard a thing. It was hard to care about that though. Not when he was riding the gods-damn Raze Boar. The Raze Boar, as big as one of those shiny churches. No, bigger. His hooves left craters in the pavements. His tusks went through blue nasties like a battering ram through paper. Bits of metallic bone showered off him, glittering in the weak light that escaped the gloomy cloud cover. His fire, as bright as fresh war paint, but with power unmatched, scorched buildings to cinders but left trees and beasts untouched. Every street they rampaged through was swiftly flooded with bellowing boars. Where they all kept coming from, Domri had no idea. Yet why question when you were having so much fun? All that mattered was this whole war had become theirs to win. Ravnica was theirs to win!

**“I will destroy the invaders**,” Ilharg reminded him, still lodged in his thoughts.

**“Now is not the time to tear down what civilisation has become.”**

Domri pulled a face he was sure the God-Boar couldn’t see.

“I thought destroying everything was your thing,” he protested.

**“One day,”** Ilharg said solemnly, **“It will come to that.”**

He knocked a flying nasty out of the air with a sweep of his tusks.

**“But civilisation must survive today so it may be torn down when the moment arises.”**

“Why are you waiting?” Domri asked, “Can you like, two birds, one stone it? It’s all coming down anyway. Might as well make it a party!”

The Raze-Boar let out a huff of flame that roasted an entire troop of zombies.

**“Do you not remember the words of your wolfkin friend? Did you not realise the purpose of your place in this world?”**

Oh yeah.

“Order needs Chaos,” Domri recited, as if answering a nagging parent, “Chaos needs Order or we run out of stuff to smash and start wiping each other out.”

**“Exactly.”**

Regretfully, he had a point. They had to keep the buildings up for now so they could knock them down in one great party later! If there was no Ravnica after this, they’d be no more bricks to slam through windows, no more skulls to shatter, spines to break. So, this time Chaos, or this sort of Chaos, would save Ravnica! The God of the Gruul would save Ravnica! Suck it up fancy churches!

**“I do not belong to the Gruul alone,”** Ilharg informed him, **“I am part of Ravnica, like many other great beings that have existed long before this plane was divided. Long before the first planeswalker set foot on its soil. I am the unpredictable nature of a hunting pack. I am the rage that burns in a goblin recruit’s eyes. I am the uncontrolled fire that consumes the circus tent. I am Chaos and without me Ravnica would suffer and wane.”**

That was super impressive but it was kind of a fact that:

“The Gruul are the ones who think you’re neat.”

**“Indeed.”**

They charged towards the centre of the Tenth, leaving a trail of broken buildings in their wake. Domri couldn’t help but notice the vines and branches that swiftly overtook these new ruins. It looked like the magic producing this grand army of boars was encouraging the surrounding nature to run as wild as their stampede. At this realisation, he let out a loud whoop:

“Yeah, you go take back your wild!”

They did not reply because they were plants. However, he was so hypnotised by the sped-up growth that the sudden beat of very large wings caught him entirely off guard. He turned just in time to see four enormous figures step out of the shiny gap between worlds. Immense blue nasties that towered over everything. Everything except the Raze-Boar and the Dragon.

“What the fuck are those?” he exclaimed. The little ones were bad enough! Why did they need to be that big?!

**“Those,”** Ilharg said gravely, **“Are my quarry. They were once Gods, protectors of their own world – caretakers, warriors, scions. But the Dragon stole their minds, warped their purposes and now uses them to enforce his vile Order. They are too much for the mortals of this plane. It will take a God to slay a God.”**

Fuck yeah! God Fight!

**“So, this is where I leave you.”**

Wait, what?

**“You have a great many battles ahead of you,”** Ilharg explained, “**But this one is my responsibility. Your wolfkin friend needs to rest. So, should you, for the fighting ahead.”**

It didn’t look like Domri was getting any choice in the matter. He yelped as he was surrounded by green flame, before suddenly he was not on The Raze-Boar but on a much smaller boar right beside Lakkie. At his sudden appearance, Lakkie let out a yelp of his own.

“Krokt Domri! What the shit?”

“Raze-Boar’s going to knock down the big nasties,” Domri explained, pointing at the looming Gods.

“Says we got to rest for what’s next!”

“Oh thank the gods,” Lakkie sighed, “I’m dead beat and absolutely starved.”

Domri made to make a comment about Lakkie’s stomach when suddenly Ilharg spoke again.

**“I grant you this companion for your travels. There is a walled garden approaching, with plentiful sustenance for all four of you. This is likely the last we will meet before the End arises. Fight well, little planeswalker.”**

Wait, where was he going?

“Do you have to go back in the rock?” Domri shouted up at the flaming god, “Can’t you stay?”

**“I cannot. You may see me in your dreams, signs, portents, of the approaching End. But not for many years.”**

Well that was boring. He was looking forward to ruling Ravnica with his new Boar-God pal. Though something he’d just said sounded familiar. That’s right, dreams!

“Did you give me those freaky dreams I had before?” he bellowed.

**“No,”** said the boar, “**That, I am afraid, was the Dragon. Now, go. Rest. There will plenty more war for you later.”**

The garden was exactly where the Raze-Boar said it would be. Part of the exterior wall had crumbled revealing a lush patch of greenery so bright it looked out of place in the city centre. Grass, softer than any in the Rubblebelt, cushioned their falls as they tumbled off their mounts. They were surrounded by flowers as large as axe heads, leaves wide enough to eat off, bushes and trees bursting with ripe fruit, much of which was wildly out of season. As Domri rolled onto his back, he heard his new companion settle into the grass beside him with a snort. He leaned over to pat the boar on the flank, letting his feeling of gratitude pass to it in the haze of reddish magic

“You’re a good mate,” he told it, “I’m gonna name you…Bert. That alright?”

Bert merely snorted, but there didn’t seem to be any sign of rejection coming from him. He was mostly tired and hungry. Same, Domri thought.

There was a snarl from the nearest fruit tree. Domri and Bert looked up to see Ylva return with not one, but two, dead peacocks clamped in her jaws.

“Clever girl!” Lakkie exclaimed, immediately rushing over to fuss her, regardless of the blood dripping on the grass. She deposited the dead birds on the ground, tongue lolling from her mouth as she panted with exertion. Bert stirred to look at the birds, snout snuffling with interest. Ylva put one large paw over them as if to say ‘Mine’.

“Sorry,” said Lakkie, “She’s not one to share. There’s more peacocks out there though.”

Domri got up with a groan. They were utterly surrounded by food, it was no big deal.

“Don’t worry Bert, I’ll get us some proper grub.”

Even though his legs ached from being on boar-back for so long, Domri managed to gather a feast. He returned with one peacock. (Noisy bastards were surprisingly slippery.) However, he made a find that had him wobbling back with as much fruit and veg as he could carry. Turns out, beyond the orchard, the owners of this place kept neat little rows of greens – enough food to feed a whole tribe. He went back for two more armfuls of produce, but once back, found Lakkie halfway up a tree pulling down peaches. He jumped down and added them to Domri’s pile.

“Now that’s a good haul,” Lakkie commented.

Domri, Lakkie and Bert started to devour their way through their plunder as Ylva shredded feathers off with her teeth. Domri’s new friend had quite the appetite. For every apple a human consumed, Bert went through five. Domri had once eaten a raw potato, didn’t taste great, but Bert didn’t mind. He chomped his way through the spoils of the veg patch whilst Domri and Lakkie covered their faces in sticky peace juice.

“Selfish gits,” said Lakkie, gesturing at the grand house beyond the garden, “Keeping all this good food to themselves.”

“Bet they weren’t gonna eat it anyway” Domri agreed, "Doing them a favour really.”

Lakkie nodded enthusiastically as Ylva huffed a mouthful of peacock feathers into his lap. He patted her before picking up the least mangled ones and putting them in his hair.

“Hey, look at me Domri,” he laughed, “I’m a special sort of handsome.”

Domri glanced over at him. The green and blues of the feathers went well with his lazotep stained armour. He was a sight, that was for sure.

“What d’you think?” Lakkie teased, turning his head and pouting like some fancy pants lady.

“You’re always a special kind of handsome,” Domri chuckled, “Don’t need bits of dead bird for that.”

He felt a heat rise to his face that had nothing to do with exhaustion. Lakkie looked momentarily surprised but he was soon grinning too.

“You’re not too bad yourself. Though you’re wearing more dead animal than me.”

Domri rolled his eyes.

“You’re wearing all leather lumphead!”

Lakkie had a point though. He had various bits of bobs strung about his person, and he didn’t know where all of them had come from. He’d got some after those weird dreams. Weird dreams that didn’t come from his own God.

They’d come from the Dragon.

Domri frowned up at the storm-tossed sky, dark too soon for the time of say. One hand gripped the leather strip he’d fastened as a mean to hold his trophies – the fang, the scale and the spine, all from his dreams. All magical, he could feel it, but before now he’s just thought it was the power from the creatures he’d supposedly slain. Now he had his doubts.

In the first dream, he’d been fighting a maaka the size of an elephant. He’d had a great gold spear with two points, dodging and weaving as the maaka circled and occasionally pounced. Its claws gouged channels in the earth as they stalked each other. He was fast but the maaka was faster. They kicked up dust and ash as they danced around each other, neither landing a blow. _I’m doing this wrong _Domri had thought. _The cat won’t tire that fast and it won’t stop jumping at me. _So instead he stood his ground, spear aloft in a firm two handed grip. The maaka leapt, all bloody teeth and claws. With a grunt, Domri thrust the spear, forwards and upwards, taking the brunt of the cat’s weight on his trembling shoulders. Blood gushed from twin wounds as the maaka flailed in agony. The next thing Domri knew, he was back in his own camp with an enormous maaka tooth in hand. He’d had a hole put in it and strung it about his neck. As soon as the fang touched his skin, he felt it. The strength he’d used to spear the beast, coursing through his veins. Then with the hydra scale. And then the dragon spine. After each dream battle, he’d get a physical trophy. He’d put them on and suddenly feel a burst of strength. Strength to assert himself beyond his usual means. Strength, inhuman. Strength to rise up, to take on Borborygmos. Strength to rule.

Strength that he hadn’t really earned.

Strength that wasn’t his.

Strength that the Dragon have given him. Given him to aid in the destruction of Ravnica before the Gruul got to do it at the right time.

“Krokt!”

“You alright?” Lakkie asked.

Domri ignored him, suddenly getting his feet, ripping off the band that contained fang, scale and spine. He felt the effects immediately, he felt smaller, weaker, the aches got worse. Regardless, he tossed the cursed trophies to the ground and stamped on them. When they didn’t break, he ordered:

“Bert, stamp!”

The boar stomped on them, shattering the scale, snapping the spine, sending the fang skittering into the bushes.

“Domri, what are you doing?” Lakkie exclaimed. 

“The Dragon used me!” Domri growled, “He gave me this fake shit and made me fight the rest of the Gruul! I was part of his fucking plan and I didn’t even fucking know it!”

Lakkie looked more alarmed than ever. He rose to a kneel, grabbing Domri by the wrist and tugging him back down. Even when Domri was sat, he didn’t let go.

“What did the Dragon do to you?” he asked, expression filled with worry.

“Made me stronger than I was,” Domri grumbled, “Bastard pumped me up with shitty dragon magic so I would make the clans all fall out. He wanted me to beat them all up and then take them all out to destroy Ravnica.”

“But you didn’t,” Lakkie stated.

“Didn’t what?” Domri retorted. He felt like his shoulders had seized up with rage.

“Help him lumphead,” Lakkie sighed, “You set the bloody _Raze-Boar_ on him. That’s like the opposite of help.”

Domri took a deep breath.

“Yeah, yeah I did.”

“And you’re not all pumped up anymore?” Lakkie asked, glancing at the shattered trophies.

“Yeah,” Domri replied, “I mean no. I mean…I’m all me again.”

“So, all better right?” Lakkie suggested, “Now you can go kick that dragon up the arse with your own power. With For Ravnica.”

“Yeah,” Domri’s heart rate settled, his fists unclenched.

“You’re lucky one of us has some smarts,” Lakkie informed him. Domri threw a peach at his face. It hit him in the shoulder with a wet splat. It was easier than admitting he was right about all this. Yes, Domri was free. Yes, Domri was well up for going to kick the dragon up the arse. But he’d do so much weaker than he’d been in months. When those blue nasties had already almost killed him once. Still, with the Raze-Boar rampaging through the city streets. With his new friend Bert. With his old friend Lakkie, and of course Ylva the wolf, who knew what kind of hurt he could cause now? Who knows, he might have cool new boar powers. Be able to trample nasties under Bert’s mighty hooves.

“Yeah,” he said again, “Yeah, let’s smash some skulls.”

He clenched his fists as suddenly both wolf and boar were surrounded by a greenish haze. Bert snorted. Ylva howled. Domri met Lakkie’s gaze, grinning.

“Let’s kick that dragon’s arse. For Ravnica.”


End file.
